


Commitments

by lamour88



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 19:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19707610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamour88/pseuds/lamour88
Summary: Hi! So I haven't been able to get time to finish my WIP yet :(, but recently I opened up the document (progress!) and happened to find a good number of draft fics there, ones which I had thought were just unfinished 'doodles' but are actually like completed standalone fics, lol. So I thought, well, why not post some of them in the meantime?





	Commitments

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I haven't been able to get time to finish my WIP yet :(, but recently I opened up the document (progress!) and happened to find a good number of draft fics there, ones which I had thought were just unfinished 'doodles' but are actually like completed standalone fics, lol. So I thought, well, why not post some of them in the meantime?

before all this had started, he’d tried to convince himself that if anything ever _did_ happen between them (and he only allowed himself to think of it as some vague, distant fantasy), in the long run, they just weren’t compatible. and ultimately, that incompatibility would prove catastrophic for the business.

the _problem_ with this whole thing was that something essential in his brain had shut off the second they’d first kissed. the moment their lips collided and he could feel the way her hands gripped at his shirt and the soft sound she made against his mouth, he was done and dusted. something in him, that small moderating force that had got him this far, had signed off and left him out here to fend for himself. 

she was, he had previously reminded himself frequently, a serious relationship type of girl, and he was distant by nature and prone to sabotaging intimacy. his only serious relationship had functioned on toxicity. the ensuing flings and relationships fell apart because he was careful to build walls and avoid actual serious feelings. they were just too different in that sense, he and robin. 

these thoughts had proven comforting to him on those friday evenings when he would have to nod goodbye to her as they parted ways for the weekend and he swallowed questions about where she was off to. indeed, reminding himself that it would never work was a rather convenient antidote to the vague nausea he felt after noticing that she had just reapplied her lipstick before leaving and he was forced to wonder if she might have a date. _we wouldn’t fit together, anyway._

it turns out they did fit together. at least, they fit in the only way that seemed to matter on that first heady weekend when, by his estimation, they probably hadn’t once stopped touching each other in some way for two straight days. 

their bodies moved together as though they needed no initiation. for a blissful 48 hours there was no other world in existence but the one between them, the one in which he could catch her lips in his whenever he wanted and she’d return his kiss with an eagerness that intoxicated him… the one where he heard her moan his name in a voice he’d only heard from her before in his deepest fantasy… the one where she bit his shoulder to keep from crying out, his hands gripping her hips. 

and while “work” had always been a reliable excuse to leave someone’s flat in the early morning, he found himself— he, cormoran strike— wondering aloud, as he rolled over in bed and met her smiling eyes, if they could just take the day off. 

“what, today?” she sounded bemused as she laid kisses along his neck and jaw. “no, of course we can’t. i have counter surveillance this morning— soon actually— and we meet with barclay at 11.” her tongue flicked against his pulse. 

“okay, well in that case you’ll have to stop that,” he said bracingly, even as he shifted to pull her closer to him. she giggled, biting her lip as they locked eyes again. “and stop that, too”. he kissed the corner of her mouth. 

“what?”

“looking at me like that.”

“you think highly of yourself”. 

he raised his eyebrows at her. “i do. based on what you were saying last night, i—”

“that’s enough out of you”. she hopped up and grabbed the shirt on the floor next to her, trying to conceal her grin. 

it was almost worryingly good, starting his day with robin in his bed and now standing here in front of him, in just a t-shirt, grabbing her belongings off his floor. he couldn’t stop his hand reaching out and running up the curve of her thigh and she gave in, leaning down to press her smile to his. but just as he started to pull her back down, she reluctantly broke away. “tonight…” 

he nodded, trying to keep his voice steady and nonchalant but failing entirely. “yeah”. 

**********************

robin had been right, he thought, once he sat alone in his quiet office that morning. they couldn’t take a day off. there was a big case to attend to, and while he usually worked on weekends where necessary, he had been… otherwise occupied the last few days. 

he pressed his fingers to his eyes, willing himself to _not_ conjure up certain appealing images from the weekend lest he be distracted again from the task at hand. 

fortunately, he was able to kick into a familiar rhythm and for a few hours, he worked diligently, combing through one suspect’s social media postings, then managing to get a witness on the phone and twist their arm into a lunch meeting for later that week. it wasn’t until 11:15, when he had wandered over to robin’s desk to add movements to the flowchart they were compiling, that he realized both she and barclay were late. he was just considering giving one of them a call when he heard familiar footsteps on the stairs, and there she was coming through the door. 

“hi. sorry i’m late,” she walked over to where he stood at her desk, dropping her purse on the chair and immediately looked down at the flowchart, her finger tracing the words he’d added. “what’s this?” 

almost without thinking, his hand instinctively drifted to her lower back, sliding around her hips. for just a moment she hesitated, then gave in, leaning in to his body. 

“it’ll keep for when barclay gets here, no use discussing twice.” they turned to look at each other. “did you happen to see him down there?”

“no.”

it seemed a very logical thing to do— to kiss her. but his lips had barely grazed hers before she turned her head quickly to the side, stopping him with a hand to his chest. “um, wait.” 

“sorry…” 

“no, it’s—” robin shook her head, avoiding his gaze as she maneuvered out of his arms. he took an awkward step back. “i just don’t think— er, i think we should reconsider…”

“reconsider?”

“this.” she gestured between them. 

barclay chose this perfectly opportune moment to burst through the door, the tinny sound of music pulsing from his headphones which he slipped off his ears as he looked between the two of them. evidently, the tension was palpable. “sorry, tube delays. everything alright?” he smiled questioningly. “did i walk in on something or—?”

“no!” robin’s denial was a bit too forceful. an odd silence hung in the air. 

strike cringed, knowing barclay didn’t suspect anything other than a typical disagreement among colleagues. with a sideways glance at robin, who was still very much not looking at him, he gestured for barclay to take a seat. “come in then, we’ve only got a bit of time. i want to go over everything, from the start, so we all agree on where we are. then you can update us on your trip up north this weekend. good?”

“‘course.” 

they sat down, and strike risked one last look robin’s way. her face was hard, serious… professional. he quashed the creeping icy feeling in his stomach and opened his notebook. 

******************

it was 5pm, he hadn’t heard from robin at all since she’d left with barclay at noon, she hadn’t picked up his calls, and so he had taken his notebook down to the pub to see if he could make any headway with his mental block by having a pint or two. 

he downed the first one quickly, and realized he’d hadn’t had a drink since last week. he was working on his second when he considered sending the text that he’d typed out earlier then deleted. _still on for tonight?_ no. she made herself clear, he thought, setting his phone aside. he wasn’t going to send texts like a desperate teenager. 

there was a vague fear that had come over him since robin had left without a word hours ago. it recalled some distantly unpleasant feeling that he’d never wanted to battle with again. the way it had been with charlotte: the constant trepidation, wondering what trap he’d stepped in, how he might have avoided it if he’d only been more careful. no, not the usual fights that couples have, but something worse. manipulation… hiding… 

three pints in and he vowed he wouldn’t do it again, not even for her. and then with a sudden surge of fondness he recalled the way she laughed as he pulled her against him just a day ago, the way his lips found her neck and how she had almost purred with contentment. his stomach twisted. 

“another,” he gestured at the bartender. 

*******************

the lights were on in the office as he stumbled up the stairs towards his flat. he knew it would be her before he opened the door but still felt a defiant swoop of joy in his stomach when he saw robin sitting at her desk. he cursed that betrayal of his body despite all his resolutions that he’d just spent the last few hours making, reminding himself of the wisdom of building certain barriers, of holding back trust. 

she was reading from her computer and looked up when he came in. she smiled and he resented that. 

“hiya”. 

“working late?” he made his way over to his office, pausing as he opened his door. 

“waiting for you.” she stood up, started walking towards him then stopped, leaning back against her desk instead. “erm— sorry about earlier.”

he shrugged, pushing his door open. “everything alright?”

“i got takeaway. for us,” she followed him as far as his doorframe, watched as he fell into his chair with a heavy sigh. “came here around 6 but you had left already, i guess.” 

“i hadn’t heard from you. i called, twice.”

she looked down, rocking uncertainly on her feet. “yes, well…” swallowing hard, she raised her head as though prepared to welcome what he’d throw at her, “you know where i am on monday afternoons. i can’t usually answer my phone when i’m undercover.”

“which is why i didn’t worry.”

“so why did you call?”

“what do you mean?”

“you never call me when i’m on _that_ assignment. you know that i won’t answer.”

he hesitated. he sensed she was drawing him into something, although he didn’t know what, and the alcohol was numbing his ability to think as quick as he would’ve liked. “i don’t know.”

she frowned, something like disappointment flickering across her features, which was a real punch in the gut. he could tell that she knew he wasn’t being truthful. somewhere in the midst of his own confusion and hurt and trepidation, he was aware that was a sore spot for her. lying. but so was this for him— this evasion, this toxic uncertainty. he couldn’t bring himself to ask what he really wanted to: _“is this over, then?”_

so instead, he flipped it back on her. “you left hours before you had to”. 

“what?”

he folded his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “you weren’t due at the restaurant for another two hours but you left here with barclay at noon. where’d you go? barclay had to leave, but you didn’t, and i know—“ he gave a pointed look behind her, at the notes left on her desk— “you wanted to keep talking about the case”. 

a flush crept across her cheeks. “i…” 

he raised his eyebrows. “it’s your business, but—“

“so,” she shook her red-gold head in defiance, apparently battling for the upper ground again, “you’re angry with me, all because i wouldn’t kiss you earlier?”

strike blinked, genuinely stunned. “of course not,” he said, truthfully. “and i’m not angry,” he added, this time less truthfully, “but when it comes to returning work calls. i am still your partner—”

“ _you_ were the one who didn’t want me at work today—”

strike narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “didn’t want you at—?”

“i don’t want to be what everyone thinks,” she blurted out. “i’ve spent all this time trying to prove myself,” she said, “and matt— _people_ always said you were only keeping me around for one reason.”

a strange silence descended between them for a few loaded seconds. 

“don’t think that way,” he said quickly, his voice low. “you know that’s not—”

“well, it’s easy for you to say,” she quickly wiped away the two tears that had escaped and fallen down her cheeks. “you’re a man. people will always see you as— as legitimate. but if someone walks in and sees us… you know…” she gestured silently for a moment towards his desk and strike turned to look at it; he couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at whatever it was she was implying they would be doing on the cluttered wooden surface. 

“and then i’m just the joke, the nice distraction.” she swallowed, then crossed the floor to grab the tissues that sat in front of him. “it’s not that i don’t want… _you_ ,” she continued, seemingly determined now to get it all out. “i do. um, obviously”. her flush deepened. “but just, when we’re here, in this office, or on assignment… i don’t want things to change. i don’t ever want _this_ to change.” 

he reached for her hand, wanting desperately to touch her, then realizing what he was doing, quickly withdrew it. 

she laughed thickly, herself reaching down for him and letting their fingers intertwine. “it’s okay… well, it’s after hours.”

there were a lot of things he wanted to say. things about matthew and the number he’d done on her, for one, and how it killed him a bit that he was still in her head like that. about how everything but nothing had changed for them. about how he’d realized just how much baggage they were both bringing to this thing… cumulative years of fucked up relationships on both their sides and the defence mechanisms they’d both cultivated for themselves, how both of them had to somehow learn, together, how to be better. about how an hour ago he was considering throwing this away just because— he could admit it to himself— he was, based on no evidence, scared she was about to leave first. 

but those weren’t nearly the most important things. he ached to make her understand just how deep his respect ran for her. how much he admired her competence, more than anyone he knew. how she probably deserved more than what he could offer her here. 

but tonight, he sensed those truths should wait. instead, he simply said, “i’m sorry. you’re right.” he squeezed her hand. “and when we’re in this office, we’re just partners. professional conduct. this— this is a very collegial hand holding.”

she laughed again, and he thought that making her face light up like that was probably the most worthwhile thing he’d done all day. he considered saying so, but swallowed those words, too. 

“sounds good,” she sniffed, smiling down at him. “and i— i’m sorry for walking out like that. really. i panicked,” she shook her head. “i guess i’m not very used to…” but she let the words drift away, the thought left untethered. he didn’t push it. they stayed like that for a moment, strike in his chair and robin next to him, his thumb absently drawing patterns on her knuckles.

robin considered him, her gaze darkening as it fell from his eyes, to his mouth, then drifted lower still. she tugged gently at his hand. “let’s go upstairs, then.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I still 100% condone and support office ~shenanigans between Robin and Corm and cannot guarantee it won't even appear in some of my future fics. This is just one universe! :)


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